


Resistance

by lamerezouille



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bonding, Dubious Consent, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-23 14:35:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3771928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamerezouille/pseuds/lamerezouille
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From <a href="http://dracotops-harry.livejournal.com/290261.html?thread=3091157#t3091157">Prompt #6</a>: While trying to help one of his former Death Eater friends leave the country, Draco messes up so horribly he winds up bonded to Harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resistance

**Author's Note:**

> Dear this_bloody_cat, you said you fucking love kink, and it’s not my forte, but I tried to include some kinks anyway. This fic got a bit away from me, but I hope you’ll like it. And a bazillion of thanks to khalulu for her invaluable beta, and to the mods for putting up with my dreadful tardiness! ♥ ♥ ♥

 

**day one**

When Draco woke up that morning, the Felix Felicis was not part of the plan.

It was whilst buttering his croissant, with the taste of pumpkin juice fresh in his mouth and the smell of brewing coffee invading the hotel’s dining room, that the idea came to him.

It came almost randomly: like, _Wouldn’t attempting the most dangerous thing I’ve ever done since trying to kill Dumbledore be easier if I had a bit of liquid luck with me?_ Once the idea was there though, it was impossible to get rid of. There was nothing else to do. _Of course_ , things would be easier with luck on his side. Just because he’d been planning this for weeks didn’t mean his plan was fool proof.

So, instead of going over his plan three more times, he only did it once, took what he had left of gold, and went to the only Apothecary in Calais.

He emptied his purse for a dodgy-looking potion phial and hoped he hadn’t just been duped. He’d only seen Felix Felicis once before: it was in Sixth Year, in Slughorn’s Potions class, and the liquid then had looked brighter and a warmer gold than this one was. Not every potion-maker was of Slughorn’s calibre though, and he had to trust that the shifty-looking witch behind the counter was scared enough of his family name to give him the real thing.

At five in the afternoon, Draco was ready. He put the potion in his pocket and checked with a Lumos that his wand was in working order, then Apparated onto the beach, at the closest possible point to the Muggle’s Channel tunnel.

It’d been more than ten years since he managed to escape Britain and the terrible living conditions the Wizarding World had to offer for an ex-Death-Eater, but he still remembered the slog very well. It’d been hell doing it back then, and he knew that it would be difficult today too. He had a plan, though. Everything had to go just according to that plan, and Goyle would manage to join him here in France. And with Felix Felicis, there was no reason for anything not to go according to plan.

He hadn’t decided to help Goyle out of loyalty or compassion, or Merlin forbid, because he was brave. Draco couldn’t actually pinpoint _what_ had made him make such a foolish decision, but he did feel he owed Goyle this much, after years of bossing him around. It maybe also had something to do with Crabbe’s death, but Draco tried to think about _that_ as little as possible.

Draco drank his dose of Felix Felicis and let the tingling feeling of clarity, of purpose, pervade his mind. There was no doubt left in him, no fear, only one thought: he would succeed today, and Goyle would walk free again.

Exactly thirteen minutes and nine seconds after he heard the 6 o’clock London-Paris train arrive on French soil, Draco took a deep breath and Apparated smack in the middle of the tunnel. He stood right in front of the warding charm that had surrounded all of the British Isles ever since the post-war Ministry had decided to make Britain a prison for ex-Death-Eaters. It was so strong it was shimmering, and Draco had to resist the temptation to stick his hand in it just to see what it would do.

He had to wait though, and a little voice in his head told him than rather than the eight minutes he had anticipated, maybe he should wait ten. Two minutes were nothing, and ten was a good, round number.

Once the ten minutes had passed, Goyle showed up on the other side of the warding charm, just like planned. The dozen Aurors that were running after him, though...Draco had to admit that those, he had not expected.

Suddenly there were shouts and spells and lights, the bright red of the Auror robes dotting the dark tunnel with colour, overwhelming Draco from all sides.

His wand felt heavy in his hand, his fingers gripping it tightly; several spells were already on the tip of his tongue. He had to act, and he had to do it quickly if he wanted Goyle to get out of this. If he wanted _himself_ to get out of this.

Nothing came out. No spell, no jinx, no curse. Even Draco’s legs didn’t seem to work anymore. Felix Felicis was no help, making his mind groggy instead of sharp. Draco started to doubt greatly the quality of the potion he was sold.

There were twice as many scarlet robes as he had seen at first. They were closing in on Goyle, and if Draco didn’t do something _now_ , they would catch him too, no matter which side of the border he was on.

Two things happened at once then: Draco noticed a door hidden in the reinforcement of the tunnel, and his wand and mouth suddenly acted on their own, making him utter a spell he’d never heard before.

Draco’s heart was beating a staccato against his ribs and his breath felt like it wanted to leave his body completely. He almost felt faint and had no control over anything that was happening. Goyle had been hit by a _Incarcerous_ , and there was nothing Draco could do for him anymore. Draco practically flew towards the door, his legs moved so fast. In a matter of seconds he was on the other side, and the explosion of sounds and lights from the Aurors had vanished.

His back still to the door, Draco let himself fall on the floor, a huge sigh flying out of him. His heart still felt like it wanted to escape his chest and there was a sentiment of utter hopelessness crushing him, but inside this little room he could feel safe, at least for now. If he was to be deported back to England, he at least had a few minutes to regain his composure first.

He looked around him. The room was small and empty and Draco had to wonder what purpose the Muggles found in building something like this next to a train tunnel under the sea. The answer to this question had to be none, because it was clearly abandoned. The brick walls were dirty and damaged in several places and the floor was covered in dust and -bits of rubble. There were spider webs draping the top corners of the room, but even those had been abandoned: what subsistence was there here for spiders?

It was definitely not somewhere he could stay in the long term. He would have to step out sooner or later, and there were no doubt a bevy of Aurors on the other side of the door waiting for just that. Draco wondered why they had not Apparated in here yet. Maybe they feared he had prepared a trap of some sort for them. The idea almost made him smile, it was so ridiculous. They would have no trouble apprehending him in any way.

Draco could see himself back in the British Wizarding World and its repressive rules only too well, and he had to contemplate the idea of turning his wand on himself. He had not accomplished as much as he would have liked in his short life and he knew there would be at least his Mum to miss him—maybe more people even—but would death really be that bad in comparison to a life of being reminded of his worst mistakes at all times?

Draco got up and took a few steps inside.

He was five paces from the door when a loud _pop_ resonated in the space around him—not quite the _Crack!_ of Apparition, but close enough for Draco to turn around and not be surprised that someone was standing there.

He could say truthfully that he wasn’t surprised either that that someone had to be Potter. It was a bookend of sorts, wasn’t it?

‘Here to take me in, Potter, are you?’ Draco asked, realising how much easier faking nonchalance had always been around Potter. It was a game he had not played for some time, but not one easy to forget.

‘I...er, I guess?’ Potter was very clearly very confused, the way he was looking around the room as if it was full of dark artefacts rather than moths.

‘Do what you have to do, then. I don’t expect resisting would be in any way effective.’

‘I’m sorry, Malfoy,’ Potter said, exchanging his deer-in-the-headlights expression for genuine regret. He cast a surprisingly gentle spell that bound Draco’s hands together and placed himself behind Draco to guide him to the door.

Draco felt like he was walking to the scaffold, but his legs were not trembling anymore for the few steps he had left to take towards the door. He was glad that if he had to discover an ounce of bravery inside himself it was here and now.

He gripped the doorknob with his bound fists, ready to be judged and condemned, ready for the gibes and hard work and non-existent remuneration waiting for him in England, but the door didn’t open.

Potter tried too, but it didn’t budge.

When fifteen minutes had passed and no spell had any effect on the door, Draco could feel the calmness that he had managed to reach evaporate.

‘What is happening, Potter?’ He asked, trying not to show his fear. Although he had been almost ready to end his own life not long ago, the idea of staying stuck here, suddenly seemed like the worst thing in the world. If they weren’t able to leave here, they would starve to death or kill each other, and that it was _Potter_ who had to be here with him was the cruellest of jokes.

Draco reckoned that, all in all, Potter gave up on the door pretty easily. Draco was still expecting him to start kicking it and yelling in the hope that his colleagues outside would hear him, but Potter instead produced some kind of scaly pouch from under his robes and pulled from it what looked like a broken piece of mirror. He then started to speak to it.

Or rather, Draco understood, Potter was talking to his friends, who must have been on the other side of the thing, ‘Ron! Hermione! Are you there?’

‘Harry! Where the hell have you Disapparated to? We were kind of in the middle of something, you know. Remember the whole Goyle case and Malfoy hiding behind an un-openable door?’ Draco could hear Weasley’s voice pretty clearly; he’d rarely seen a two-way mirror with such good quality, and never a broken one.

‘Well, I didn’t actually Disapparate, Ron,’ Potter explained after a hesitant glance in Malfoy’s direction. ‘I just, er, popped in there.’

‘What do you mean, you just...Where are you, exactly?’

‘I’m, er...with Malfoy. I mean, he’s in my custody. We’re in a tiny room, and er. We can’t actually get out. I think it’s because of the border warding spells, and I don’t actually know if we’re in England or in France right now.’ Draco had never seen Potter look so sheepish.

‘You...what? Are you serious?’ Weasley sounded incredulous but resigned at the same time, and he didn’t wait for Potter to answer before going on, ‘Only you, Harry. Only you...Wait a second, I’ll get Hermione.’

‘The good news,’ Granger said once she got on the other side of the mirror, ‘is that, after studying the tunnel maps, I can say with a hundred percent certainty that the room you’re in is on the English side of the border, so you’ve got the right jurisdiction to arrest Malfoy.’ Draco hadn’t even considered otherwise. He’d always figured that the Saviour of the Wizarding World’s jurisdiction was anywhere he pleased, and that low-life Death Eaters had generally no recourse. He didn’t know if he would have tried to do something different had he known. His plan was supposed to have been foolproof, after all.

‘The bad news,’ Granger went on, emphasising the word _bad_ ominously, ‘is that the door is right on the border, and that because of the warding charm, Malfoy’s status as a Death Eater keeps him from leaving the room. Unfortunately, I have no idea why _you_ can’t leave, Harry.’

‘Maybe you’ve been a Death Eater all along, Potter,’ Draco quipped. The glare Potter pinned him with seemed to indicate he didn’t find it funny.

‘It must be linked to how you got there in the first place,’ Granger said, ignoring Draco’s interruption. ‘Ron told me you hadn’t Apparated, and that would have been impossible anyways. The spot you’re in is laced with Hogwarts-levels anti-Apparition wards.’

And like in any unsolvable mystery, Potter found the way to pin all the blame on Draco.

‘It was that spell you did when we were closing in on you, Malfoy!’ Potter turned to him, his eyes fiery with accusation. ‘There’s no other explanation. This was a routine operation for us, and this spell was the only non-routine thing that happened today. What _was_ it? I’d never heard anything like it before.’

Draco remembered the spell. That had to be it, because he had no idea what it had been, and the way it got pulled out from him had definitely been dubious at best. It didn’t mean he was going to admit his fault in the matter.

‘How could this be my fault? Do you really think I wanted to stick myself in this empty room, with no food or _anything_? And with _you_? Aren’t Aurors supposed to have at least common sense if not deductive skills?’

‘What was the spell, Malfoy?’ Potter asked again. His voice was calm and steady now, and Draco could feel all of his stature as an Auror in these few words.

‘I don’t know,’ Draco admitted reluctantly. Potter took two steps towards him, and this invasion of his personal space—with shoulders so wide and expression so intense—had the effect of Veritaserum on Draco. ‘I’ve never heard it before, I’ve no idea where it came from. It just...came out. I don’t think I could even cast it again.’

Draco felt awful, like he was grasping at straws. It had been the same ever since the end of the war: how could he ever defend the indefensible?

‘Malfoy. How come you managed to cast a spell you knew nothing about?’ Potter asked slowly. ‘I’m not trying to build my case against you, I just want us to get out of here, okay?’ Potter was talking to him like he would have a skittish horse, and Draco would have been offended if he could have mustered the will to be so.

‘It was the Felix Felicis,’ Draco finally admitted, his voice trembling and higher than usual. ‘Well, given the result, I’d rather say it was _fake_ Felix Felicis. It made me do it, whatever it was.’

‘You can’t blame your actions on a potion, Malfoy,’ Potter said in a moralising tone Draco could definitely have done without.

Between Draco’s and Potter’s recollections of the spell, it took Granger around forty-five minutes of research to discover what the spell was, and how it had stuck Potter in this room with Draco.

It took around twenty minutes for Draco to recover once he’d heard her prognosis.

‘A bonding spell? How...how could I have cast a bonding spell without even wanting to? I don’t...I don’t _want_ to be bonded to Potter! And isn’t a bond supposed to be mutual? This is not possible!’

‘Well, I don’t know how you did it, but you obviously did, otherwise Harry would be able to travel more than five steps away from you.’

And it was true. Apparently, ever since the spell had been cast, Potter had been stuck to the area around Draco, and had been brought inside the room with him when Draco had left his spot against the door.

This was not good. Not good at all.

‘So. How do we break the bond?’ Potter asked, much more level-headed than Draco would have expected. How come he was the only one freaking out here? Did Potter even realize what _bonding_ meant? It was like a bloody marriage! Even if they got out of it, it would always have happened.

‘Well...’ Granger was hesitant for the first time and something stronger than dread started gnawing at Draco’s insides. ‘You’re not going to like it, Harry.’

‘Hermione.’ Potter’s voice was harsh and almost threatening. ‘Tell us. I’m sure we can handle it.’

Granger seemed dubious at best about Potter’s ability to handle it, because her tone was soothing and even a bit pitying when she finally said, ‘You have to have sex. This is the only way.’

 

**day two**

Draco was _not_ going to have sex with Potter, and it was all well and good, because Potter definitely didn’t want to have sex with Draco either.

They had conjured beds and pyjamas, and had decided to sleep on it, but neither of them had changed their minds. Potter was waiting on Granger to find him a miracle-solution to get out of the bond, and Draco was waiting for death to shorten his sufferings.

There simply was no hope for Draco: bond or no bond, the border ward kept him from leaving the room. And even if he did manage to get back above ground someday, he would still be in Potter’s captivity, and with the weight of his sentence as a Death Eater to bear.

Plus, the last meal he had eaten already felt like days ago and he was fucking _starving_.

‘Do you have food in this ugly purse of yours, or only broken pieces of magical objects?’ Draco asked Potter, as the latter was sitting on his bed with his two-way mirror in hand, waiting for Granger to show up.

‘It’s not ugly, it’s Mokeskin,’ Potter answered testily. ‘It’s very valuable.’

‘And very unbecoming.’

Potter glared at Draco for his remark, but Granger’s reappearance in the mirror cut short any response he would have wanted to make.

‘Hermione! Please tell me you’ve got good news. This whole situation is an effing nightmare.’ Potter’s hopeful face was almost touching, if only he didn’t look so pathetic.

‘I’m really sorry Harry, but no. In theory, any bond can be dissolved by a high enough Ministry official from the moment it’s written up at the Bonding Bureau. The problem with the bonding spell Malfoy used is that the bond it produced isn’t actually complete, and a bond only reaches the Bureau if it’s completed.’

‘You mean if I have sex with Malfoy,’ Potter said darkly.

‘…yes,’ Granger confirmed Potter’s suspicion, but there was something hesitant in her voice. She clearly had more to say, but didn’t know how to voice it. Draco wondered what other atrocity she would inform them of. ‘Except that even incomplete, this kind of bonding is still recognised by the Ministry as legally binding. Given that the room you’re in is on British soil, being bonded to you for a hundred days will grant Malfoy a pardon from the Death Eater statute and his full Wizarding citizenship back. There will be no grounds for you to arrest him anymore.’

Draco felt a jolt go through him at Granger’s words. His heart was beating even faster than it had under Auror fire the day before. Was that true? Was that actually _possible_? Maybe Draco’s hunger had gone to his head and he was actually passed out and dreaming that being bonded with Potter could solve all of his life-problems.

Potter and Granger both stayed silent for a moment, as if they were grieving the fact that things could turn out well for Draco for once in his life. Although when he looked up to scowl at Potter, the git didn’t seem to be annoyed, but rather in deep contemplation.

‘Isn’t it a good thing, though? It means that, in a hundred days, Draco will be able to get out of here. And so will I.’

‘But, Harry, do you really think you both can hold out in there this long? In such close quarters? You’re going to kill each other!’

‘If hunger doesn’t kill us first!’ Draco called out as cheerfully as he could. ‘Have you worked on this too, Granger? Or are you still focusing on saving Potter from my evil wiles?’

‘Well, actually,’ Granger went on. Potter angled his piece of mirror so that she could talk right at Draco. ‘I think you might be the one with the solution for that, Malfoy.’

‘I understand, but wouldn’t Potter eating me be a little counter-productive? It depends on the kind of eating he does, I guess.’

‘Very funny, Malfoy,’ Granger deadpanned. ‘But it is true that doing away with you would free Harry from all his troubles. Alas, he is not the killing kind. What I meant was that I was thinking of reproducing the Vanishing Cabinet charm on Harry’s pouch so that we could use it to send you food and other necessities. Do you think it would work?’

Draco’s stomach chose that moment to rumble almost painfully. He really hoped Granger’s idea would work.

 

**day five  
**

Draco and Potter had started a routine of sorts. They woke up, then got cleaned in opposite corners of the room (the maximum distance the bond let them be from one anther), ate and didn’t speak a word to each other until the next meal.

The Vanishing Cabinet spell had worked, and although the food Granger sent them was more often mangled in the process than not, food was food, and they usually had enough for both of them. After several days, Draco didn’t even feel like complaining anymore.

The boredom was such that Draco felt like a hundred days already had passed. He didn’t know how Potter could stand it. There was nothing to do. There was one thing to do: Potter. Or well, _talking_ with Potter. Because _doing_ Potter? That was a bad idea. And not just because doing Potter would mean getting back to England as a prisoner.

‘Potter, I’m bored,’ Draco drawled, knowing that it would annoy Potter to no end. Potter had taken to pass his days doing some weird floating thing he called “meditating”, and Draco’s favourite thing was making him fall back on his mattress. It was disappointingly working less and less, and this time, Potter only just twitched. ‘Entertain me, Potter!’ Draco demanded as brattishly as he could.

Potter let out a deep sigh and let himself descend back on his bed. ‘What do you want, Malfoy?’

‘Isn’t it obvious? This place is the most boring place on earth, and Granger won’t even try sending us books out of fear of damaging them. You’re an Auror. Don’t you have exciting stories to tell about your dashing heroics?’

Potter sighed again, and this time punctuated it by a roll of his eyes.

‘Come on, Potter, you must have at least one story that is at least equal to all the drama you were up to back at Hogwarts.’

‘I don’t know… There _is_ this case from a few years back, but it’s a bit gory, I don’t think you would like it…’

‘Don’t play coy, Potter. I’m sure there’s nothing scarier than a cut toe in this story of yours.’

‘All right, I’ll tell you all about it, but you can’t say I didn’t warn you,’ Potter said before finally launching himself into a very, very disturbing tale of a Dark Wizard who had found a way to modify the Killing Curse so that the people he murdered would die in ways referencing the Seven Deadly Sins. It _was_ gruesome, and Potter’s gleeful description of each of the cadavers he’d found kind of made Draco regret his insistence at hearing it all. Not that he would _ever_ admit it.

‘And that’s when I decided to open the box the killer sent me. And inside…there was Ginny’s head.’ Draco just had the time to conjure a bucket before vomiting into it and Potter didn’t even seem that sorry that his teenage sweetheart had been decapitated. Potter then proceeded to burst out laughing.

‘What’s wrong with you, Potter?!’ Draco panted between two bouts of nausea. ‘Your girlfriend was massacred! Have you turned mad?’

Potter was laughing so much he was wheezing, and it took him a minute before he was able to answer Draco’s indignation. ‘Ginny’s fine, Malfoy! But your face! I can’t believe you swallowed it all!’

‘What? It was all a lie?’ Draco should have seen it coming, but he hadn’t expected Potter being such a good liar. ‘Did you _invent_ such a gross story? Do you actually _fantasize_ about this kind of stuff?’

‘Of course not! It’s from an American Muggle movie. It’s a quite well-known one. You should see it.’

‘Well…’ Draco spluttered, not knowing how to react to so much smugness coming from Potter. As much as Draco accused him of it back at Hogwarts, this was a very new behaviour for Potter, as far as Draco was concerned. ‘I’m certainly not going to see it now that I know the ending!’

This made Potter just laugh more.

‘By the way,’ Potter said once his laughter had calmed down. ‘I’ll tell Ginny how distraught you were to learn about her ghastly death. Didn’t think a Malfoy would ever care so much about a Weasley. And don’t you think it would have made the papers even in France if something like this had happened to a Holyhead Harpies star?’ Draco chose not to answer Potter, but it didn’t keep him from going on, ‘Not that you seem to be following the Wizarding society’s news, or you would have known Ginny and I have been broken up for close to ten years.’

 

**day twelve  
**

They were finishing up sandwiches that had come through Potter’s ugly pouch in almost one piece when the bonding spell showed itself to be more than an invisible five feet rope between the two of them.

Well, at least Draco _supposed_ it was the bonding spell. It _had_ to be, because there was no other reason why he had the sudden urge to kiss Potter. Especially when the prat had greasy crumbs clinging to his stubble in a very disgusting way.

The urge died down pretty quickly— _thankfully!_ —and Draco went back to his business. Not that he had any actual business to go back to, but he had been contemplating counting the cracks on the wall on his side of the room, and for this sort of thing, there was no time like the present. He was unfortunately kept from doing that by Potter, who was chronically unable to just let things slide.

‘Did you feel that?’

‘Feel what?’ Draco answered, his attention fixed on crack number three. Perhaps if he played dumb, Potter would get the hint.

‘I don’t know,’ Potter said, _not_ getting the hint. ‘For a moment it felt like…like the bond wanted us to kiss, or something.’

Well, at least Potter confirmed that it _was_ the spell, and that Draco hadn’t been touched by a bout of complete insanity. Draco decided not to answer. If he ignored Potter, perhaps Potter would go back to his meditation and let Draco alone.

‘What do you think it means?’ Potter went on, and the tremor in his voice compelled Draco to answer this time.

‘Isn’t it obvious? No spell wants to be left undone. The bond is trying to get itself completed.’

This announcement put a stricken look on Potter’s face. ‘Will it make us…?’

Draco couldn’t believe he was stuck in this small room with a grown man who wasn’t even able to say the word _fuck_ without blushing.

‘What do you think?’ Draco snapped.

Spell or no spell, there was no way Draco would do _anything_ of the sort with Potter.

 

**day fifteen  
**

The spell _was_ strong, though, and Draco felt his eyes following Potter’s movements at the most inopportune of times.

They had come to an unspoken agreement to turn their back on each other when they were busy completing _bathroom-y_ duties, and Draco had since then kept his end of the deal with the utmost care.

As a result, he had no idea how he came to be staring at Potter’s arse-crack as he was relieving himself in his corner of the room. It was a nice crack, and Draco hadn’t seen one for longer than he liked to admit. It was the boredom. And the bonding spell.

Anyone stuck in close quarters with a fit bloke would have been staring at his arse-crack _days_ ago, Draco was sure. It had nothing with it being Potter and it being Draco. And it had nothing to do with how Draco imagined Potter’s dick looked right now and how it would look in...um, _other_ circumstances.

Draco concentrated on the pukey shade of grey of the ceiling and willed his cock to soften.

 

**day twenty-two  
**

Draco was definitely not the only one affected, and he liked to think he was more discreet about it than Potter was. The glances Potter were sneaking him were more and more frequent, and Draco didn’t like the effect they had on him.

Every time Potter’s eyes were on him, Draco felt a tingling sensation that was at the same time exhilarating and uncomfortable. Ignoring the phenomenon was obviously not working, so Draco decided it was time to address the erection in the room.

‘All right, Potter. We cannot go on this way for seventy-eight more days. It’s time to be proactive.’

Potter had the decency not to pretend he didn’t know what Draco was talking about. ‘Do you have any suggestion?’ he asked. ‘Do you know of any spell that can make people impervious to sex pollen?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Potter. This is much more serious than sex pollen.’

‘You’re aware that sex pollen doesn’t actually exist, right? I was just joking.’

‘It’s not just a question of resisting the urge to have dubiously consensual sex,’ Draco went one with a glare, ignoring Potter’s lame attempt at humour. ‘My future is in the balance, here. Under British Law I’m a Death Eater, and you very well know what is made of our kind nowadays. If not having sex with you is what can save me, then I won’t.’

Potter looked like he wanted to protest, but mercifully abstained from saying something stupid that would antagonize Draco. Instead, he just frowned slightly and let Draco go on.

‘I suggest we make a comprehensive list of everything we dislike about each other. That way, every time we feel the bond trying to make each other have sex, just a look at it’ll be enough to snap us out of it.’

‘Are you sure this is the way you want to go?’ Potter asked sceptically. ‘This could end up with us hexing each other to death.’

‘I trust that we’ll be mature enough not to.’ Draco waved him off as he conjured a chalk board and started to separate it in two columns. ‘So, Potter. Tell me one thing you dislike about me.’

Harry Potter, the Great War Hero and Saviour of All that he was, seemed almost scared to answer. ‘Er...’ he said.

‘Very eloquent, Potter. Thank you for your input. I’ll just begin, in that case. I hate the crow’s nest you call your hair,’ Draco said, and _“awful hair”_ wrote itself up on the blackboard.

‘Hey, that’s kind of unfair! I can’t do anything about my hair. No spell ever works. Here’s one thing for your column: You’re a judgmental arse.’

Draco refrained from informing Potter that being tasteful wasn’t synonymous to being judgmental and let the word write itself on the blackboard.

‘My turn: You’re self-righteous and conceited.’

‘That’s two, you cheat! You’re a dishonest, pointy and egotistical prick!’

 _Pointy?_ What kind of insult was that? Besides, Draco was certainly _not_ pointy!

‘You’ve got ugly glasses and no style, and you’re a whiny brat who thinks everything is owed to him!’ Draco spat, his anger making his heart race.

‘You’re bigoted and unscrupulous and scrawny, and...and...’ Potter was red as a tomato and Draco had never seen him so close to unhinged. ‘You’re a Death Eater!’

With these two words, Draco felt his stomach drop, his blood boil and his fist grip his wand tight enough to break it. He managed not to obliterate either the blackboard or Potter though. He _was_ mature enough, after all.

He didn’t speak a word to Potter or even glance in his direction for the rest of the day. His plan was working already.

 

**day twenty-five  
**

‘I don’t like cauliflower, you can take mine,’ were the first words spoken aloud since the blackboard had begun looming over their heads from a spot on Draco’s side of the room.

Draco glanced at the _egotistical_ and the _Death Eater_ in capital letters on the blackboard. He didn’t take the cauliflower.

 

**day twenty-seven  
**

Draco woke up to Potter glancing away guiltily. His hair was as tangled as ever, sleep-mussed and in serious need of more of a wash than what a _Scourgify_ could accomplish, but a picture of Draco’s hands buried deep in black locks as he fucked Potter furiously still came unbidden in Draco’s mind.

Blackboard or no blackboard, the bond seemed to still work its effect on both of them pretty efficiently.

‘What?’ Draco snapped. Antagonising Potter had proved to be the best solution to their predicament.

‘Nothing, I just...’ Potter kept his eyes fixed on a point above Draco’s head. ‘I don’t think you’re actually scrawny. This was, er...’ Potter didn’t finish his sentence and his cheeks were tinged with pink.

Draco didn’t know where this was coming from. He looked up and the word _scrawny_ had erased itself from the blackboard. This was not good.

Still, he couldn’t help himself from answering Potter with, ‘Your hair, it’s not... _that_ awful...’ He watched in dismay as the blackboard took notice.

Was that the bond too, making them try and be nice to each other? Maybe it just made them more honest.

Given the number of times Draco had thought of fucking Potter during their adolescence, honesty was definitely not a good idea either. The fact that Draco could admit this to himself was already a bad sign.

 

**day thirty  
**

Draco had no idea why Granger tried to send them pumpkin juice through with their food. They’d been able to quench their thirst with _Aguamenti_ so far, so there really was no need. Especially since the not-so-perfect charm on Potter’s ugly pouch had managed what hundreds of Hogwarts students had never been able to, and they now found themselves with some sort of pumpkin liqueur.

A sip of the thing made Draco renounce it immediately. His handle on the bond was uncertain enough that he didn’t want to worsen it with alcohol. Potter didn’t have the same reluctance, and downed a glass of the stuff quickly enough to make him cough.

‘You shouldn’t drink this, Potter,’ Draco said as neutrally as he could.

Potter answered with a large gulp of the stuff and another coughing fit. ‘What’s your problem, Malfoy?’ Potter asked, and Draco realised he’d been scowling at Potter. ‘Scared I’m gonna rape you if I’m drunk?’

Draco rolled his eyes. Bond or no bond, Potter was still _Potter_ , and him raping Draco had not once crossed his mind.

‘ Well, I’m not the one who cast this stupid bonding spell!’ Potter went on. ‘A bond whose entire point is to force people to have sex! If anything happens, it’ll be _your_ fault, Malfoy!’

To untrained ears, Potter’s rant could have sounded like a way for him to cover himself if anything were to happen, but to Draco it sounded more like pure desperation at the mere idea that Potter could do something as awful as take advantage of a _Death Eater_. A _judgmental_ , _dishonest_ , _pointy_ , _egotistical_ , _bigoted_ , _unscrupulous Death Eater_ , the blackboard said.

Weirdly, and despite every bad thing he had done in his life, it seemed that it was _Draco_ Potter was the most worried about. It made something tingle in Draco’s belly, something he was suspicious had nothing to do with the bond.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and meant it. ‘I didn’t want for any of this to happen. All I wanted was for Goyle to escape the Death Eater statute. And…I’m sorry about the other things I’ve done too.’ After saying that, Draco was also sorry he couldn’t run and hide. It was _Potter_ who’d just drunk two glasses of strong alcohol, so how come it was Draco spilling his guts on the table?

‘I know,’ Potter said with a sigh. ‘What I said was uncalled for. I’m sorry too. And, well...I get it. The Death Eater statute...I didn’t agree with it when they implemented it, and I still don’t really agree, but I just… Being the Chosen One really isn’t what it was cracked up to be.’

Draco didn’t know how to react to that. It didn’t surprise him entirely that Potter was _good_ and _moral_ enough to be against the Death Eater statute. On the other hand, Draco didn’t know how he would have lived with the fact that he owed his salvation to Potter if the Boy Who Lived had put his foot down on the statute.

It was only then that Draco realised that, if he managed to stay bonded with Potter long enough to gain back his full Wizarding citizenship, he would effectively owe his freedom to Potter. Draco knew it should bother him way more than it did right now.

While Draco was introspecting, Potter took two more gulps of his modified pumpkin juice. ‘By the way,’ he said, ‘you might be pointy, but it didn’t keep me from wanting to shag you at some point in my life, you know. So that shouldn’t really be one of the “things I dislike about you.”’ Potter was waving his arms around and it took Draco a moment to recognise it as quotation marks. It was a bit ridiculous, but it made the tingle in Draco’s belly crop up again full force.

‘All right, Potter. Why don’t you sleep on it?’

‘I mean it, Malfoy,’ Potter insisted, ignoring Draco’s attempts at changing the subject. ‘And about the other things I said about you...They were true once, but I don’t think they are anymore. You don’t deserve to be exiled in France or put under Death Eater statute. What you’ve risked for your friend...that’s, that’s actually nice.’ Potter was rambling now, and Draco couldn’t determine if the embarrassment he felt was on Potter’s account or on his own. ‘You’re actually nice, Malfoy,’ Potter went on, and there was almost wonderment in his voice.

Draco chose to ignore it and went to bed.

 

**day thirty-one  
**

Draco was still convinced that the blackboard had been the best and most efficient idea to keep them from succumbing to the bond.

He _Vanished_ it anyway.

Potter had negated almost everything that had been written in Draco’s column anyway, so there really was no longer any point to it.

 

**day thirty-seven  
**

There were cauliflowers with dinner again. This time, Draco accepted Potter’s.

 

**day forty-three  
**

Draco woke up with a very strong urge to shag Potter. A very strong urge. And the worst was that he couldn’t really remember entirely why it was a bad idea. Potter was fitter and less detestable than Draco would have ever thought. Draco wasn’t even sure that in the same circumstances and without the bond, he wouldn’t have wanted to shag Potter too.

So what if he completed the bond with Potter? Potter had said he didn’t agree with the Death Eater statute. Maybe he’d agree to stay bonded with Draco in this room until the hundred days had passed.

‘Harry! Harry!’ Granger’s voice interrupted Draco’s thoughts before they could become even sappier.

‘Hi, Hermione. What’s up?’

‘Oh Harry...Higher-ups at the Ministry are starting to get pretty impatient about your absence. Ron and I have explained the situation to them, but all they want is to get you back and get Malfoy in custody. From what I’ve heard, they already have the Bonding Bureau ready to pounce. They’re looking for ways to undo an uncompleted bond. I don’t think they’ll manage, but it’s their first priority at the moment.’

And with Granger’s words, any hope Draco might have of being able to shag Potter flew out the non-existent window. He hadn’t expected the Ministry to be so bound on catching him that they were willing to undo the bond even without Potter’s consent. Whatever Draco thought he knew about Potter, he knew the Ministry better. He couldn’t take any risk.

 

**day forty-nine  
**

Draco could no longer _look_ at Potter without getting hard. Judging by the increasing amount of time Potter spent behind the makeshift curtain he’d conjured around his bed, Potter was affected by the bond the same way.

Being aware of this but not being able to _do_ anything about it drove Draco crazy.

When the food arrived, shortly after noon, Draco already felt so strung out he just wanted to pass out for the day. It was no help that taking a cold shower was not possible in this room.

They ate in silence and without looking at each other, but as Potter handed Draco a piece of bread, their fingers touched, and suddenly there was no going back anymore.

It was first the tip of Potter’s fingers on Draco’s knuckles, then his palm covering the back of Draco’s hand. Then Potter was touching Draco’s forearm, his elbow, his shoulder. One of Potter’s hands was caressing Draco’s arm and the other was already on the side of his neck and all Draco could formulate in his mind was _more, more, more_.

Draco didn’t care about the bond anymore or the Death Eater statute; all he could think about was Potter’s hands on him and how much he wanted to keep them there. Potter’s hands felt so good, his presence was so warm and so _intense_ , Draco felt a little scared that he could never be whole again without it.

The hand that was on Draco’s neck slid towards his jaw and the one on his arm gripped his hand and placed it surprisingly gently on Potter’s arse. Draco had felt so completely overwhelmed by Potter’s hands on him that he’d forgotten that the other way around was possible too. There was Potter’s arse under his hand, Potter’s tight, muscular arse and the idea of burying himself inside it took Draco over.

Draco didn’t know if he was grinding against Potter or if Potter was grinding against him, but then they were kissing, lips, tongues and teeth rushing against each other, and it took Draco a humiliatingly short time to come right in his pants. He didn’t feel too bad about it though, because it only took Potter a few seconds more to do the same.

Potter’s hands were still on him and he still had Potter’s arse-cheeks under his palms, but now he could feel again the stone in his back and smell the food they forgot they were eating. Potter slowly rolled away from him, but instead of the same contentment Draco felt seeping through his bones, it was the shadow of panic that Draco could see reflected on Potter’s face.

‘Merlin, Malfoy, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—I didn’t, I mean. Did you? Are you okay? Did I just…? Did we just complete the bond?’

The idea hadn’t even crossed Draco’s mind and he felt his stomach knot at the idea. It couldn’t…they couldn’t have… What had just happened wasn’t really… ‘I don’t know…’ he said carefully. ‘Do you feel any different?’

‘Not really, no. I still…I still want to touch you.’

Draco still wanted to touch Potter very, very much. He didn’t though. It seemed way too dangerous right now.

 

**day fifty  
**

The next conversation Potter had with Granger might have been the most awkward of them all. Potter’s utter dismay at having to explain the situation to his best friend was hilarious, but Granger’s occasional scowls in his direction persuaded Draco not to laugh out loud.

‘The bonding spell Draco used only allows penetrative sex to complete the bond so there’s no change in your situation yet. But be careful Harry. It’s still Malfoy, and you don’t want…’

‘I’m right here, you know!’ Draco called out, managing to make Granger falter in what she was about to say.

‘Never mind,’ she said, obviously annoyed. ‘I don’t want any more details about what you two are up to down there. Just be careful, Harry. And you,’ she went out louder, addressing Draco directly, ‘If you do anything that hurts Harry, I’ll make it my mission to find the most hurtful hexes this side of _Crucio_ and I’ll test them on your balls, understood?’

She didn’t give Draco the time to nod and she disappeared, leaving them in a somewhat uncomfortable silence.

‘All right!’ Draco said as he clapped his hands together, trying to dissipate the awkwardness in the room. ‘So this is actually good news. The bond has gotten a bit quieter since yesterday and it seems we have found how to accomplish that without actually completing it.’

Potter raised his eyebrows. ‘What are you suggesting, Malfoy?’

Draco answered with a wave of his wand. His trusty blackboard reappeared, but this time instead of stupid columns, there would only be one list on it. Draco wrote its title with another wave of his wand: _NON-PENETRATIVE SEX WE CAN HAVE._

 __Potter burst out laughing. Draco tried to ignore how pleased with himself the sound made him.

 

**day fifty-four  
**

Draco was impressed by the number of days they’d managed to keep their hands off each other before the bond needed to be slaked again. They hadn’t waited that long though and their make-out session this time felt less urgent than it had four days ago.

Draco was at a point where he wasn’t even sure whether it was the bond that made him so horny or just Potter’s presence. Yes Potter was still all the bad things Draco had written about on the blackboard, but he also had an exceptionally fine arse, a wicked sense of humour and surprisingly smart insights. It was almost getting kind of scary, so Draco chose to ignore the nagging question in his mind of whether it was only bond-induced attraction on Potter’s side.

Any doubts or misgivings he might have had flew from his mind as Potter’s mouth left his lips and Potter’s tongue started working at a spot at the base of Draco’s throat.

Draco felt his hands squeeze Potter’s arse almost automatically. Merlin did he want to bury himself in it. He knew he couldn’t, but his will was weak and the bond was strong. He slipped his hand underneath Potter’s trousers and let his fingers wander along plump flesh. The moan that it elicited from Potter felt very satisfying.

It took them only a few minutes of frantic kissing and groping before Potter was on his knees and undoing Draco’s pants. When Potter’s hands suddenly stopped, Draco couldn’t help a very unflattering whine escaping from his throat.

‘Are you…are you sure?’ Potter asked, and he looked so earnest, so genuinely worried about Draco’s well-being that Draco couldn’t find it in him to ignore his concerns.

‘Merlin save us all!’ Draco sighed. ‘I am a healthy male in the prime of life. Why on _earth_ would I refuse a blow job?’ Draco cupped Potter’s face in his palm and, as seriously as he could when most of his mind was blurred by the idea of Potter’s mouth on him, answered, ‘Yes, I’m sure. This won’t seal the bond according to Granger, so there’s no risk—’

‘No, I mean,’ Potter cut him off, annoyance in his voice. ‘Are you sure that you want that, that it’s not just the bond?’

‘What happened the other day may have been a consequence of the bond, but I don’t think…’ Draco took a deep breath. He wished Potter would interrupt him right now, but a look at Potter’s earnest face washed away any hope Draco might have had of being saved from what he was about to say. ‘I don’t think it necessarily means I wouldn’t have liked it to happen in other circumstances,’ Draco admitted, avoiding Potter’s stare. Draco felt more naked saying these words than he did when they _Scourgified_ themselves in their respective corners of the room.

‘I…Are you certain?’

‘The bond doesn’t make me feel like my brain is addled, perhaps a bit more focused on your arse than I would normally be—but nothing like _Imperio_. I feel quite fine about what happened between us. It felt more like relief than anything.’ Draco turned his gaze back on Potter, and could only hope that Potter was sharing this sentiment.

‘Yeah,’ Potter nodded thoughtfully. ‘I think we’re on the same page. It’s just… You’re _you_ and I’m _me_ , and…this shouldn’t feel as easy as it does right now.’

‘So let me summarize the situation: You’re stuck in an underground room with your childhood rival because of an unwanted bond for a hundred days, and you are actually complaining that your life isn’t more complicated?’

‘Well, said like _that_ , of course it sounds a bit stupid…’ Potter complained. There was a slight blush on his cheeks and Draco seriously started to see the appeal. He didn’t like to think of Potter as endearing though, so he tightened his hand on Potter’s face.

‘Come on, Potter! We both want this. The bond is fucking us both and there’s nothing we can do about it, so let’s at least enjoy what we can. You were on the right track before this untimely soul-searching. I promise I’ll reciprocate. Even if the bond is temporarily slaked.’ Draco stroked along Potter’s cheek and neck, and bent down to whisper in his ear with the sultriest voice he could manage, ‘We could also do both at the same time, if you want to try it.’

Potter’s eyes lit up, and there was no need convincing him of anything else after that.

 

**day sixty-one  
**

Potter made the most delicious sounds when he was fingered. It was such a shame Draco couldn’t actually fuck him.

It was also a shame that when he would be able to fuck him—once the hundred days would have passed—there would be no longer a bond to pull them towards each other. Draco started to wonder whether it would feel like the liberation it was supposed to be. Even on English soil and without the Death Eater statute hanging over his head, Draco didn’t relish the idea of going back to the lonely life he was leading back in France.

Draco shook himself. The bond was really starting to mess with his head. He twisted his fingers with a sharp movement of his hand and Potter positively gasped. _Delicious definitely was the word_ , Draco thought as he swallowed Potter’s following moan in a kiss.

 

**day seventy-five  
**

Draco didn’t remember the last day they spent without having sex one way or another. He still hadn’t _actually_ fucked Potter, of course, and even though Draco hadn’t stopped craving it one second, it didn’t seem to matter anymore.

They were lying naked side by side on the bed they’d transfigured from the union of their original conjured beds and it suddenly struck Draco how _peaceful_ it was.

‘There’s only twenty-five days left until you’re free,’ Potter said. ‘I’d never have thought it could pass so quickly.’ He marked a pause then, but there was something so solemn in his tone, Draco didn’t dare answer. ‘I almost want to stay here even after you get you citizenship.’ He marked another pause, this time with a sigh and a glance in Draco’s direction. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Why on earth wouldn’t you want to go back out there? You’re rich, famous, and attractive. You’ve got a shedload of friends who would die for you in an instant. I’m not sure all the sex in the world could replace that.’

There was a long silence after that, and Draco almost thought Potter had fallen asleep. ‘I get why you did it, you know. Tried to help Goyle escape,’ Potter said and it took Draco a second or two to remember what he was talking about. His botched escape plan seemed to have taken place lifetimes ago. ‘I can’t pretend I know what it’s _really_ like being subjected to it, but I know that not everyone who’s ever _talked_ with Death Eaters deserves that. It’s not just the hard labour and the constant surveillance: it’s a general sentiment of being unwelcome, rejected, _inferior_. I experienced some form of it when I was a kid, but I don’t think it’s comparable. At least I still had the hope that I could escape someday. And the ones that did this to me weren’t branded as _heroes_ by the society at large.

‘I hate what the statute makes me do to people who don’t deserve it, but I know I can’t quit, because others would be even worse about it. I try to do what I can. With Ron and Hermione and some others, we’re trying to change things from the inside, maybe amend some of the regulations in the statute, but it takes time and the Ministry is difficult to sway even for the Boy Who Lived. I wish I could do more, but sometimes I also wish I could just leave and not have to _save_ people all the time.

‘So in some way I’m _glad_ I get to do it here and now, even if the conditions aren’t ideal. It’s selfish, but sometimes I’m so content down here, I can’t really muster up the energy to care anymore.’

There was silence again, and Draco felt like maybe Potter wanted him to agree, to say that he was selfish, and an arsehole, and a bloody hero who shouldn’t be able to let even former Death Eaters get treated so badly. Draco thought this was all a pile of shite. ‘You’re as far away from selfish as I am from a turtle, Potter. Of course fighting an entire society is harder than fighting one crazed evil overlord. It doesn’t mean you won’t win—you’re the Saviour, after all—but you can’t carry the weight of the world on your shoulders _all the time_. But what you’re doing now isn’t selfish. You could’ve done a lot of things differently that would have kept me from getting my citizenship back, but you didn’t. You could’ve—I don’t know— _raped_ me, and been done with it! You could’ve—’

‘I could have made you tell me how you had planned to get Goyle through the warding charm and done the same thing to get us out of this room,’ Potter completed with a small voice.

Draco felt his jaw move, but he couldn’t say anything. How could he have not even _thought_ of that possibility? He swallowed and tried to make his heart calm down—when had it started to beat so frantically anyway?

‘Thank you,’ was the only thing Draco could think to say once his voice had finally returned to him.

 

**day eighty-seven  
**

They were closer and closer to the day. They were almost done. Neither of them felt ready to leave. Draco wanted Potter, he wanted him so badly, but the imaginative ways they had found to slake the bond didn’t seem enough to fill the hole in Draco’s chest anymore.

 

**day ninety-four  
**

Draco was grinding between Potter’s arse-cheeks, so close to his goal yet so far, Potter moaning under him—begging for more. Potter was irresistible and Draco was weak. How had he managed to stand it for so long? Potter’s arse was snug against Draco’s dick, ripe for the taking, and Draco could see the whole scene—entering Potter, making him scream.

Draco almost caved.

Why was this simple act of penetration forbidden? Why was it so important? Why was Draco’s need for it so consuming? It didn’t make sense—they’d done _everything_ but that.

Why was it so difficult to resist?

Draco’s head was burning with fever and he was starting to lose it.

 

**day ninety-nine  
**

Being close to each other without being able to satisfy their need had become unbearable. They went back to their separate beds on each side of the room and Draco even conjured back the two awful columns on the blackboard.

It didn’t work anymore.

They spent the day on the floor with Draco’s cock pushing between Potter’s closed thighs, trying to convince themselves that it was the real thing.

 

**day hundred**

‘You know,’ Draco said, his body curled around Potter’s and his breath against his neck. ‘When I get out, I won’t be considered a Death Eater, but it doesn't mean it doesn’t concern me anymore.’

‘Your could help us. Your experience is invaluable. Some of the people under the Death Eater statute deserve everything they got, but most of them were just kids back then. You know what it was like for them, you know how unjust what they’re living with now is. You could show the Ministry, convince the _people_...’

‘I think you’re putting way too much hope in me, but...I’d like to try.’

Potter squeezed Draco's hand against his chest. ‘There’s never too much hope,’ he said. Draco felt warm all over.

 

**day hundred and one  
**

The door unlocked for Draco on the first try. There were two Aurors on the other side of it. Strangely, their presence had calmed Draco’s uncontrollable urge to fuck Potter. Or maybe it was the change of air.

Despite their angry and disappointed looks, they let him pass. Draco was still bonded with Potter. Draco was a citizen of the British Wizarding World. There was nothing they could do to him anymore.

Touching English ground for the first time in ten years, even inside the Muggle Channel Tunnel and surrounded by grumpy Aurors, felt like nothing else. It was only his Malfoy pride that kept Draco from kneeling down and kissing the dirt. (Maybe he’d do it later, when Potter wasn’t there to witness it.)

‘So,’ Potter started, his hands stuck in his pockets and his eyes fixed on Draco’s mouth—or maybe they were fixed on his smile. ‘What were your plans for the day?’

‘I don’t know…I thought maybe it was time to complete this bond once and for all.’

‘I wonder however it is we can do that?’ Potter smirked, his eyes glinting playfully. It took all Draco had not to jump him there and then.

‘We need for the bond to be complete in order for it to be broken, after all,’ Draco said. As Potter’s face fell and his hand left Draco’s, Draco went on, ‘And I’m not the type to bond with the first comer. I’m not saying I need to be courted, but a few dates wouldn’t be amiss. Also, I’d like to see how sex can be without a pesky bond trying to control our urges.’

‘I hope it stays the same,’ Potter said, his smile back full force as he pulled Draco closer.

‘I do too,’ Draco answered, and let himself be kissed.

They definitely needed to Apparate somewhere private and _soon_ though, or the bond risked being completed in a very inappropriate manner.

(Maybe he’d send a thank you note to that fake-Felix Felicis seller.)

**Author's Note:**

> You can leave a comment here or over at [LiveJournal](http://dracotops-harry.livejournal.com/302995.html). Comments are ♥.


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